


of first choices and second bests

by czennie127



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Mark, Character Study, Coming of Age, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Humor, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is a Panicked Gay, Non-Linear Narrative, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Time Skips, Yuta is a mess but it gets better, Yuta is just panicked, a lot of bad puns seriously, bffs!YutaTen, college student!mark, mostly top!yuta, with the occasional switch, writer!yuta, yuta is 5 years older (it's all legal dw), yuta!centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/czennie127/pseuds/czennie127
Summary: Yuta just graduated from college in Tokyo, and is on holiday in Jeju with a group of friends. Mark lives in Canada but is visiting his grandparents for the summer.Their first meeting includes: a cliff, a battered notebook, smudged eye-liner and possible heatstroke. Somehow it goes from there.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Minor or Background Relationship(s), past one-sided!Yuta/Sicheng
Comments: 80
Kudos: 333





	of first choices and second bests

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline of this story is NOT linear. Please pay attention to the dates and places at the beginning of each section, because the plot goes back and forth from different times in 2019 and 2020. With that said, I hope you enjoy!   
> (The story is entirely fictional, but all the places mentioned are real)

_November 15th 2019, 6.48 p.m. – Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan_

  


This is about people

And cages 

And how we learn to squeeze ourselves

Into too small spaces 

This is about neat little boxes 

That have been prepared for us 

(By whom? Who are “they”?) 

And that we must accept 

Say thank you, even 

Dip our heads in a reverent bow 

The boxes do not come with instructions 

-They are not needed – 

Because each human knows one thing and one thing only

The most vital rule of life 

Is that you need to break your bones into brittle quivering needles 

To fit in the box 

And live in it 

(It does not matter if you’re 

Spitting out blood)

They 

Gave you a box 

You 

Say thank you 

And get inside it 

  


_July 14th 2019, 9.32 a.m. – Udo Island, Jeju-do, South Korea_

  


“I mean,” Yuta clicks his tongue against his teeth, then he smiles, “it’s not Hawaii, but it’s pretty fucking close.” 

“How about you help with the bags instead?” yells Yukhei, forehead sweaty as he and the others unload the suitcases and backpacks from the cab. 

Ten is the one paying the driver, given that he’s the only one who can speak Korean besides Yuta (he’s using Kun’s credit card, though, which Yuta isn’t entirely sure Kun is aware of.) 

“Told you,” Ten comes to stand next to him, shirt sticking to his chest in the summer heat. “It was worth it.” 

They drag their bags to the house that will be theirs for the next three weeks, and make Kun and Yukhei do most of the lifting as the rest of them explore the place. Yuta can faintly hear Yangyang and Ten bickering over who gets what room and Kun – out of breath, probably carrying both of their bags – replying the fairest way is to toss a coin and pick randomly. The other two pretend not to hear him.

Yuta steps out in the garden, a little blinded by the sun. It’s hotter than he expected, and noisy, too, and he’ll have to room with at least two other people, but it’s also exactly what he needed. Being away for a while. When they started planning their graduation trip, it was only supposed to be Yuta, Ten and Sicheng at first – but then they realised how low they were on funds, since most of their own and their parents’ money had been spent on college tuition (and loans and years of anxiety to come with a money axe pending over Yuta’s head). That’s when Ten suggested inviting the rest of the group, since by then they were all practically attached at the hip. They dreamed of sunny beaches in Spain and Greece and Hawaii at first, then got hit by a reality check and Ten eventually suggested Jeju island; he said he used to go there with his parents when he was a kid. 

Yuta can’t quite believe they all made it through four whole years of university (well, he took five, much to his family’s disappointment, but his perfectionism just wouldn’t allow him to turn in a research paper that wasn’t flawless from start to finish). He feels a little bit like he did when he finished high school. Back then he already knew he got accepted at TODAI, and had made arrangements for moving to Tokyo, but he still felt that sense of uncertainty. That, _what next? Where do I go from here?_

He lost touch with all his friends from high school, surely but slowly. Most of them stayed in Osaka, some went overseas, and overall they were never truly fond of each other – friendships born out of convenience, just so they wouldn’t be alone through high school and would have someone to get drunk with the night before graduation. Hitomi kissed Yuta that night, even though she knew he was going away to Tokyo. He went along with it. He simply thought it would’ve seemed weird if he didn’t. 

Tokyo was different from Osaka in a lot of ways. Yuta was already a pro at the city life, and he loved it – how busy it was, how the streets were never really empty even in the middle of a Thursday night – but nothing could have prepared him for the simmering anthill that was Tokyo. And it felt good, to lose yourself in a crowd like that. Yuta had been doing it most of his life – he did that for his first year of university too, his friends cool enough to get invited at parties but not so popular people knew their names around campus, his girlfriends pretty but too smart to believe him when he said he loved them. It was a balance of sorts. Until he met Ten. 

Ten was, to put it simply, friends with everyone and no one in particular. Everyone knew who he was, everyone seemed to think he was either funny or witty or charming, but no one really knew much else about him – why he came to Tokyo, what his major was, if that Lalisa girl was really his girlfriend like the rumors said. It’s not that Ten kept secrets; it’s that people weren’t interested enough to ask. 

Yuta was tipsy and Ten looked pretty with his shirt half-open, mouth red from making out with too many different people at the party, so Yuta was interested. Ten just stared at him for a minute and laughed, lips glistening. He took a swig of beer. 

“Lalisa Manoban? I wish, man. Have you seen her? Besides, I have kind of a thing going with Yoshi. Although,” he glanced at his phone and pursed his lips in annoyance, “he hasn’t been replying to my texts, so I think our _thing_ might be over.” He sighed. “His loss.” 

“Oh.” Yuta was silent for a few seconds, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I didn’t know you were…” Ten raised his eyebrows, “… dating him. Anyway, I don’t think hooking up with everyone at this party will help your case much,” he added. 

“True,” Ten nodded sagely, “but then again, it’s much more fun this way.”

“Did you come here alone?”

“Why?” This time Ten grinned and finished his beer slowly, now looking at Yuta with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Hoping to get me alone in a corner?” 

“No, what – I – “ _maybe_? “I was just wondering. You don’t seem to have a lot of friends.” 

Ten paused. “Wow.” He chuckled. “Rude. How did you notice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask anyone on campus and they will tell you I’m their best friend.” 

“Yeah, but they don’t really mean it, do they?” 

They looked at each other in silence.

“Fuck you, Nakamoto.” 

Somehow, that was how it began. They kept bumping into each other in class or at the library or at the coffee shop on campus, until they stopped pretending it wasn’t intentional. Eventually Yuta started hanging out more with Ten and less with his old clique, and somewhere in the middle they met Sicheng and became honorary members of an all-Chinese frat house. 

Yuta fell in and out of love with Sicheng approximately ten times throughout university. Meeting Ten had been kind of an awakening; not that he hadn’t questioned his sexuality before, but he had never really met someone like Ten, who was so unafraid to be the way he was. Yuta had a crush on him for a couple of weeks before he realised they would tear each other apart if they even attempted to date. Soon enough, confusion and sexual attraction turned into friendship, and Ten went from that one guy in his Cinema class with a cheeky smile and a name that was impossible to pronounce, to his best friend. This time it was not out of convenience or boredom. 

Yuta never confessed to Sicheng. He was pretty sure the other knew – hell, their whole friend group probably knew, because after shedding his old Osaka persona Yuta had found out he was possibly the most unsubtle person on earth – but they never spoke of it. Sicheng was as straight as they come. Somehow, being in love with him never hindered their friendship, and Ten was the only one who Yuta talked to about the whole thing. Sometimes it went away, faded in the background; mostly when Yuta met someone new and could pretend having sex and going on dates was the same as being in love. Then it resurfaced, hitting him in the face like a brick wall, and Yuta felt like he had swallowed all the water of the Dotombori river whenever he saw Sicheng laugh. That’s when he started to write again, and discovered he could turn that river water into ink and spill some of it on paper. The feeling never fully went away, but it got easier to deal with – until it was just barely there, a tendril of something past. Yuta learned how to turn his love into a different kind of love, and how to turn the water into ink – which was, ultimately, the best and worst thing to ever happen to him. 

“Overthinking is forbidden on holiday.”

Ten throws him a smirk. He stepped out of the house for a smoke – a habit he picked up from Yuta, or maybe it was the other way around – and his forehead is a little sweaty, skinny legs exposed by his shorts. Yuta smiles back, more softly.

“I saw a cliff while we were on the cab,” he replies, “it’s not far from here. It looked beautiful.”

“Are you gonna go full angsty writer on me, and forgo sandy beaches for a bunch of moody rocks?” 

“I’m not a writer.”

Ten lifts an eyebrow. “Sure.” 

Just to prove him wrong, Yuta puts off his visit to the cliff and, bags half undone and beers in hand, they all head for the beach. Xiaojun reddens like a lobster after the first fifteen minutes, a fact for which he is teased endlessly, and Yuta and Yukhei spend a considerable amount of time trying to fake-drown each other like they’re five-year olds. All in all, Yuta is happy. He watches the sun go down as he lies on the towel, sand in his hair, and they all agree to spend the night checking out the local clubbing scene – which is not much, considering they’re on an island. But they’re all shirtless and in swimming trunks and already tipsy from the beers they had on the beach, so they turn heads anyway. Ten manages to score a girl in record time – of course he does – and Yuta is content to watch from the sidelines, snickering occasionally at the way Kun tends to go on long and mostly nonsensical monologues whenever he’s had too much to drink. Sicheng is the only one patient enough to put up with him. He exchanges a secret amused smile with Yuta and rolls his eyes, nodding mechanically to whatever Kun is saying. Yuta huffs out a laugh. It’s not a bad life. 

The second night goes much the same, except Yuta drinks twice the amount of soju he did the night before, and somehow ends up wandering home alone. He vaguely remembers pocketing his notebook and pen before he left the house, and also vaguely remembers walking for a while before his alcohol-soaked brain decided he was too tired and needed to lie down. 

Next thing he knows, something is nudging his shoulder. His eyes immediately fly open, but he closes them again at the blinding sunlight and rolls on his side, sharp rocks poking his skin. He manages to sit down, blindly reaching for his notebook, which he knows is scattered somewhere around him. When Yuta opens his eyes again, he realises he’s at the cliff – he has no idea how he managed to get there, given how drunk he was – and his brain finally reminds him _someone_ woke him up, so he whips his head up. 

The boy is staring down at him, something like concern in the lines of his mouth, but not without a trace of amusement. His hair is messy, and not in an artful way, like he literally just woke up, and he’s wearing sun stained clothes, the peach colour of his shirt faded. 

“What,” says Yuta, voice still rough. He then remembers where he is and he repeats it in Korean. The boy gives him an awkward grin.

“Sorry. You looked kind of dead. You’re also on my grandparents’ property.” 

The boy has a slight accent, but Yuta can’t quite place it, and maybe the sun has gone to his head a little because instead of thinking of a proper answer, he just chooses to keep staring at him. He’s _pretty_. His face looks somehow soft and sharp at the same time, eyes warm, and he’s fidgeting a little with his hands – slim fingers, smooth palms. 

“Um, are you okay?” asks the boy, and Yuta notices there’s some pink dusting his cheeks now – cute – probably because Yuta has been staring at him in silence for a good minute. He gives him a blinding smile. 

“Please don’t call the cops on me for trespassing,” he says, batting his eyelashes for good measure. The boy looks a little fazed, then he laughs.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Need a hand up?”

Yuta doesn’t, but he accepts it anyway, and smiles at the way the boy averts his eyes when he grabs his hand to help Yuta stand up. He dusts off his clothes, and now he’s the one looking down at him; he suddenly notices how young the other boy looks. He grimaces. 

“Thanks,” he says, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “I should go?”

For some reason it comes out as a question, and the boy chews on his lip for a second, thoughtful. Yuta makes a point of not looking at his mouth this time, ignoring the way it curves beautifully in an almost doll-like shape. 

“Come have a glass of water,” says the boy eventually. “You look like you got a little too much sun.” 

He gestures behind him and only now Yuta notices the small house up the hill, just above the cliff. 

“Won’t your grandparents mind?” he asks softly, remembering the boy’s words from earlier. The other just shrugs. 

“They’re out back gardening, they won’t even notice. Come on.”

So that’s how Yuta finds himself sitting in a stranger’s kitchen, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He gulps down three full glasses of water before throwing the boy a thankful look. 

“I’m Mark, by the way,” says the boy, scratching his neck a little and making a point of not looking at him. 

“Yuta,” he replies, finishing his water. 

“Do you live here?”

“On the island? No, I live in Tokyo. I’m just here on holiday with some friends.”

“Ah.” There’s a bit of a long pause. “Your Korean is really good. You sound like a native.”

Yuta smiles a little proudly. “Language major. This trip is actually my graduation gift to myself.” 

Mark laughs quietly at that. 

“Same here. Only replace the friends with meddling grandparents. They insist I come back to Korea almost every summer so I _don’t forget my roots_.” 

The way he mimics the Jeju accent is spot on, and it makes Yuta laugh. 

“So you’re not a local either?” 

“Nah, my family moved to Canada when I was a kid.”

“We can speak English, if that’s more comfortable for you,” says Yuta, switching languages effortlessly. So what if he wants to show off a little? He didn’t spend all those years in university for nothing, and Mark’s stunned look makes it absolutely worth it. 

“You’re kind of impressive,” he says in English, and Yuta loves the raw honesty of it.

He winks. “I also speak Chinese.”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” 

Yuta laughs. “Maybe. Thanks for the water, by the way. This island is hot as hell.” 

“Yeah,” Mark makes a face, “I hope Seoul has better weather. I’m moving there in the fall for uni.”

Yuta is silent for a moment, then it hits him. Mark said _graduation_ , but he didn’t think he meant – 

“How old are you?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Um, eighteen?”

Right. That’s almost a full five years younger than Yuta. _Still legal_ , his brain supplies unhelpfully. He kind of wants to slap himself. 

“So what are you gonna study in Seoul?” he asks, changing the subject as he stands up and starts looking around the kitchen absentmindedly. He can feel Mark’s eyes trained on him. 

“Music production,” he says it almost sheepishly. “At SNU.” 

“You got in at SNU? You must be smart,” he can’t help his teasing grin. “You make music, then?”

“Kind of?” Mark laughs nervously. “I’ve made a few beats, but it’s harder to rap in Korean.” 

He seems to regret it as soon as he says it, and Yuta gets a little closer to him, thoroughly enjoying the half-panicked half-embarrassed expression on Mark’s face.

“You _rap_?”

“I’m not gonna rap for you, Yuta. Yuta hyung,” he adds quickly. “Yuta senpai?” 

Yuta is trying really hard not to laugh.

“Really? Not even a little bit?” 

“Stop teasing me.” 

Unexpectedly, Mark playfully shoves him away, looking more amused than annoyed. 

“Fine, fine.” He’s about to say something else when he hears a buzzing sound and suddenly remembers he has his phone in his pocket. He fishes it out: it’s Ten. He gives Mark a mildly apologetic look and switches to Japanese when he answers. “What’s up?”

“ _What’s up?_ ” Yuta immediately turns down the volume. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m not entirely sure. I’m in someone’s house. A cute Canadian boy gave me water.”

There’s a long silence. “Yuta, what the fuck?”

“Look, I fell asleep somewhere, then this guy showed up and – I’ll tell you in person, okay?” He laughs quietly, Mark still looking at him with a slight flush on his face, and Yuta shakes his head. “I’m alright. A little hungover, maybe. Where are you guys?” 

“We’re heading to the beach. Want me to pick up some coffee for you?” Ten might be an annoying brat, but there’s a reason he’s Yuta’s best friend. “Wait, _did you get laid?_ ”

“What?” he splutters. “No! I didn’t… no. He’s young. The guy.” 

“Does the guy have a name?”

“Yes, which I can’t say because he’s right in front of me.”

Another pause. “How young?” 

“Eighteen.”

“Old enough, then.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Ten.” 

He hears some more laughter. “Whatever you say. You were the one who called him cute.”

“I’ll see you guys at the beach. And yes to the coffee. Make it iced, it’s a fucking furnace out there.”

He hangs up and looks back at Mark.

“Sorry, my friend was wondering where I had disappeared to,” he explains, shrugging. “I’d better go then?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Mark seems to snap out of his reverie and quickly averts his gaze. “I’ll show you out.” 

It’s awkward as they silently make their way towards the door, and then Yuta turns, so suddenly Mark almost bumps into him. He immediately steps back, a little too fast.

“Do you want to come to the beach with us?” blurts out Yuta. “I mean, unless you’d rather do some gardening with your grandparents. My friends are chill,” he adds, because he can’t quite read Mark’s face right now. “The one I was on the phone with, Ten, speaks English. Yangyang too. So you can have, you know, more than one conversation partner.” Yuta should probably shut up. Like, right now. “Unless you have other stuff to do, of course – “ 

“No, it’s – “ They talk over each other for a second and after that they both suddenly fall silent. Mark chuckles. “I mean, that sounds like fun. I don’t know many people around here. Let me just get changed.” 

“Actually,” Yuta looks down at himself, still wearing his clubbing clothes – sheer black shirt, ripped jeans. He probably has smudged eyeliner all over his face too, “would you mind if I borrowed a swimsuit? I didn’t exactly pack ahead last night.”

“Um, I guess it’s fine? You’re bigger than me though. I mean, taller. Not like… yeah. I meant you’re taller than me.” 

His face is flaming red and Mark positively looks like he wants to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it, so Yuta decides to take pity on him.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I have to walk a fashion show, we can make it work.” 

This is possibly the most awkward encounter Yuta has ever had, but it’s also all sorts of hilarious. Mark quickly hands him a pair of swimming trunks and points him to the bathroom, before quickly disappearing into his own room. In the bathroom, Yuta laughs at his reflection in the mirror – he couldn’t look more hungover if he tried – and scrubs the make-up off his face before taking off his clothes and putting Mark’s swimsuit on. The thing is, Mark is a skinny kid, all long thin legs and narrow hips, and maybe he did have a point, because Yuta is not a hundred percent comfortable with the way the material is tight around his – everything. He looks down again. Yeah. That doesn’t look like an appropriate thing to wear. But then again, it’s not like he can hand it back to Mark and go, _sorry, didn’t work, do you have anything that’s a little less tight on my dick?_ So he sucks it up and gets dressed again, because it’s weird to show up at the beach in jeans and a shirt but he’s most certainly not asking Mark – eighteen-year old Mark, for fuck’s sake – if he can leave his clothes at his place to pick them up later. 

Oh god, is he being a creep? Is he making Mark uncomfortable and the boy is just too polite to say anything? Is he – 

He hears a knock at the door.

“Hyung, are you alright?” 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m ready.” 

No overthinking allowed, like Ten said, so he just steps out of the bathroom and waits for Mark while he goes to say goodbye to his grandparents. The walk to the beach is mostly silent, but when they’re almost there Mark suddenly smiles and turns to look at Yuta.

“Thank you,” he says, dimples in his cheeks. Yuta’s stomach does something weird at the sight, but he chooses to ignore it. “I’ve been kind of a recluse for the past few weeks. It’s nice to go out with someone who isn’t over seventy, or related to me.” 

Yuta gives a relieved laugh. “That’s… that’s good to hear.” 

Mark chuckles. “What, hyung? Were you worried I was just following along because I didn’t want to be rude?” 

“I mean – not exactly – kind of?”

“You’re good,” says Mark, still smiling. Yuta is not exactly sure what he means, but he sounds reassuring so he takes it nonetheless. “I could use a friend,” adds Mark, a little more shy. Yuta has to physically restrain himself from doing something utterly idiotic like calling him cute or pinching his cheeks. Mark isn’t dumb. He calls Yuta _hyung_ and knows he just graduated university, so he probably did the math – he knows Yuta is older than him, but it’s not like he’s a child himself – and yeah, Yuta might be overthinking again. But it’s really hard not to do that when Mark smiles at him like that, all giddy and grateful and still the slightest bit embarrassed. 

“There they are,” he says eventually, spotting his friends on the beach.

“The great Nakamoto Yuta has risen!” yells Yangyang from afar.

“And he’s wearing yesterday’s clothes and has a pretty boy with him,” adds Kunhang with a sly smile once they’re close enough. Yuta feels so fucking grateful they’re all speaking Japanese. 

“I will drown you in the ocean,” he says to Kunhang as a greeting, smile sickly sweet. “Everyone, this is Mark,” he adds in English, and suddenly feels protective of the boy, who’s looking lost and self-conscious as he trails behind him. “He pretty much saved me from dying of heatstroke, or dehydration, or both, so be nice to him.” 

“You should have left him to his slow, painful death,” says Ten, nodding dramatically, and despite everything Mark seems relieved to hear some English. “Then I would have had the room to myself to sleep peacefully, instead of having this one,” he points an accusatory finger at Yuta, “go into a writing frenzy at three a.m. and not caring about my beauty sleep. I’m Ten, by the way,” he finishes, holding out a hand. 

Mark looks a bit frazzled but still shakes it. He introduces himself to Ten and the rest of the group, holding back his laughter at Yukhei’s broken but still overconfident English. 

“Your coffee,” says Ten, shaking the cup while Yuta takes off his shirt. “Although I think most of the ice has melted by now.”

“Good enough,” he replies, accepting the cup and immediately taking a gulp. It’s not quite cold anymore, but it does the job. “Hey, you want some?” 

He turns to Mark, who is pointedly staring down with his jaw a bit slack. When he realises Yuta is talking to him, he snaps his head up so fast he probably pulls a muscle in his neck and mumbles a thanks, accepting the coffee with his cheeks heated.

“Cool – cool piercing,” he manages, now pointedly not looking at Yuta’s stomach. Yuta hears Yangyang’s evil cackle and fixes him with a death stare, then smiles at Mark in what he hopes is a reassuring way and thanks him. The other hands him back the coffee, which Yuta gulps down in about ten seconds. He can feel his brain slowly starting to work again. 

Mark fidgets a bit before pulling off his old t-shirt, and it’s probably funny how they’re both simultaneously trying really hard not to look at each other, but still stealing glances whenever they can. Yuta tries to tell himself Mark is just a normal guy, and there’s absolutely nothing endearing about the fact that he’s stick thin but somehow still has some softness around his hips, and he definitely is not wondering if his milky skin feels as soft as it looks. 

“Nice swimsuit,” snickers Kunhang in Japanese, “I especially like the fit.”

So maybe Mark is just as unsubtle as Yuta, because he’s staring again, and doing a very poor job at hiding it. 

“I see you really have a death wish today,” replies Yuta levelly, throwing his clothes on Ten’s towel and bumping him on the shoulder so he scoots over. He leaves a bit of space for Mark, not wanting to have him standing awkwardly by himself, and the boy smiles a little as he sits down next to him. 

The whole thing is weird, but it gets a little better once Xiaojun decides he’s had enough and suggests they go for a swim. All of a sudden it doesn’t really matter what language they’re speaking, because it’s sunny and warm and they’re splashing water at each other and laughing at nothing. Mark seems to relax, so Yuta does too. 

“You can use my towel,” says Ten in English once they’re out of the water, plastering himself against Yangyang just to annoy him, and Yuta and Mark both laugh awkwardly as they try to fit on Ten’s towel. They end up laying on their sides and looking at each other, which. Not good. Yuta immediately sits up on an elbow. 

“How long are you guys staying?” asks Mark, hair wet and dripping water on his shoulders. Yuta tries not to stare. He fails spectacularly. 

“Three weeks. We emptied all our bank accounts until the very last yen. We actually only arrived yesterday morning,” he adds, which he knows he shouldn’t, because what is he implying? That they have time? “We’re staying at the house next to the big hotel. The one with the weird frog statues on the front lawn?” 

Mark laughs, and it lights up his whole face. 

“Yeah, I know which one you mean. Isn’t it a bit small for all seven of you?”

“Yes,” admits Yuta with a chuckle, “we’re taking turns sleeping on the living room couch. Yangyang said it’s as comfortable as a bed of rocks, so I’m not exactly looking forward to it.” 

“I think my grandparents have an air mattress somewhere. You can borrow it, if the couch is too awful.” 

“Really?” 

It comes out more honestly surprised than Yuta meant, and Mark blushes a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, sure. It’s not that great either, to be honest, but it’s still something.” 

Yuta looks down at Mark to thank him, and ends up forgetting what he wanted to say in the first place because Mark is. Just there. Still wet from the sea and lying on the towel with his face turned to him, shoulders a little sunburnt, body mere centimeters away. Yuta reminds himself he’s wearing a very tight swimsuit and this is definitely not the time to act like a hormonal teenager, so he just smiles in response and eventually manages to voice his thanks. 

They exchange numbers and part ways at sundown. That night, while the others are getting ready to go out, Ten comes out to find Yuta and sits next to him in the porch. He steals a cigarette from the open package on the little wooden table. 

“He’s nice. Mark, I mean.” Yuta hums noncommittally as a reply. “You look at him… differently.”

“Ten. I already feel like a creepy old guy. Please don’t make it worse.”

Ten laughs at his expense for a while, then blows out a puff of smoke. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

He doesn’t explain further, and Yuta doesn’t ask him to. He’s not sure he wants to know what Ten is thinking. 

Yuta doesn’t hear from Mark for two days straight, and he’s starting to think their meeting – and whatever the _thing_ he could feel between them, if there even was anything – was a one time thing. Until one night he’s getting dressed to hit the clubs with his friends, and he gets a text. It’s Mark. 

It just says: hi hyung 

Yuta stares at his phone until the screen goes black. He unblocks it again and, very carefully, he types back: hey! what are you up to 

The reply is almost immediate.

feel like trespassing again?

Yuta does. 

He says nothing to his friends and just walks out of the house yelling he’ll be back later, then picks up his pace so he doesn’t have to hear whatever they said back. He’s not sure he’s up for being teased tonight which, all in all, doesn’t make much sense. He barely knows Mark. But he’s not a fool, and even though he’s not entirely comfortable with it, he can admit to himself he’s attracted to him, but this feels different. He wonders if that’s what Ten meant. It almost feels like he can picture Mark fitting in his life which, again, doesn’t make sense. They don’t know each other. They don’t even live in the same country. These are dangerous thoughts to have about someone you barely know and, as he walks over to the cliff near Mark’s house, Yuta wonders if this isn’t just another desperate attempt to forget how he used to feel about Sicheng, or if he’s making up this idealized version of Mark in his head and heading straight for crushing disappointment. Really, what is he doing? Mark is a kid barely out of high school, headed for a prestigious university, seemingly following his dreams. Is that why Yuta feels so ambivalent? Because Mark gets to do what he never could? Because he gets to pursue what he really wants, while Yuta is stuck with the second best thing? 

“Hi.”

Yuta looks up. Mark is sitting near the edge of the cliff, but not close enough for it to be dangerous, and even though the light is dim he can still see he’s smiling. He has two bottles of beer next to him, one already open.

“Hey,” replies Yuta quietly. Mark scans his face in silence as he sits down; he’s unexpectedly perceptive. He can feel something is off. 

“You look… nice,” he says after a second, a small smile creeping up his lips, and Yuta suddenly remembers what he’s wearing and shows a little glint of teeth.

“Oh, right. We were about to head to the club and I forgot to change.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “ 

“Don’t apologise,” his voice is soft, “I wouldn’t have come out here if I didn’t want to.” 

“Well,” Mark clears his throat, “I got you a beer.”

“Can you even drink?” sniggers Yuta, flicking the cap open using his ring, which seems to fascinate Mark. Then he takes in his words and frowns.

“I’m eighteen.”

“The drinking age in Korea is twenty,” he laughs. 

“I’m Canadian!”

“Still applies. Besides, can you drink in Canada?” he adds, and laughs some more when Mark’s frown deepens and he doesn’t reply. “Thought so.” 

He hums in appreciation at Mark’s choice of beer and leans back a little to look at the sky.

“You had a notebook, the other day,” says Mark all of a sudden.

“Oh? I guess I did. I saw this place on the cab ride and thought it looked quiet. Clearly I was wrong,” he adds with a smirk, and can’t help himself from shoving Mark a little bit. Mark shoves back, and he’s grinning.

“Sorry for disturbing your peace on _my property_.”

“Your grandparents’, technically.”

“What were you writing?” 

Yuta hesitates. “Nothing much. Bits and pieces. I’m working on a story.” 

“Like a novel?”

“Mm-mh. But like I said, it’s – “ 

“Tell me about it.” Yuta looks up, surprised by the bluntness, and Mark backs off a little. “If you want to, I mean.” 

Yuta doesn’t like to talk about his writing. No, that’s wrong. He _would_ like to talk about it, but then people start asking all the wrong questions – whether he’s planning to publish it, if it’s marketable in Japan, why hasn’t he shown it to an editor already. As if that was even a possibility. As if Yuta could ever be allowed to have his first choice in life, ever. He already had this talk with his parents years ago, and they all agreed Yuta should go for something he liked and was good at – languages – and that could also land him a real job. Because, last time he checked, writing doesn’t pay the bills. 

He doesn’t tell any of that to Mark, though. He tells him about his book instead.

It feels awkward at first, and he stumbles over his sentences a lot and worries Mark will think it’s stupid, but as he keeps talking he can’t restrain the enthusiasm in his voice, and before he knows it he’s explaining the intricacies of Hiro’s inner struggles – his main character – and how, under the circumstances, he turns into the antihero of his own story. Mark just looks at him. Listens. 

“Anyway, that’s – “ Yuta is suddenly aware that he’s been talking for a long time, and a bit too passionately for something he claims is not important, “ – that’s what I’m working on right now. It should be finished by fall, I think.” 

“You really love writing, don’t you?” It’s not a real question, and Mark is smiling somewhat knowingly. “It’s strange. To meet someone…” He laughs a little. “People always think it’s a bit weird, the way I feel about music. Like it’s the strongest force binding me to the earth. It’s not like I can explain it, not properly, but I can’t imagine my life without it. I don’t want to,” he adds, and there’s a sureness in his voice that most adults don’t even have. “I’ve heard it all, you know? About how it’s an unrealistic dream. Childish, even. My parents think I should pursue something more practical.” 

“Don’t.”

Mark looks up in surprise.

“This world is too fucking full of practical people. Don’t sell away who you are in exchange for the safety of a monthly paycheck.” Yuta knows he sounds bitter, but he doesn’t care. He’s not fully sure whether he’s talking to Mark or himself either. “We need art to get through life. Music, literature, all of it. It’s how people get by. It gives us a chance to believe that there’s something more for ourselves, out there.” 

“Is that what you’re going to do when you go back to Japan?”

Yuta laughs, and there’s no trace of mirth in it. “Me? No. I’ll go back to being reasonable. I got an offer,” he admits. He doesn’t even know why he’s saying this – not even Ten or his parents know about it. “From a small publishing house in Tokyo. They’re looking for translator. I like working with languages,” he adds, and it’s true. “It’s not like I’m setting myself up for a lifetime of misery, but I would be lying if I said it was my first choice. It’s still my second, though. I like to think that’s good enough.” 

Mark is quiet for a while. 

“You deserve your first choice, though,” he says eventually, voice so low Yuta can barely hear him. “You shouldn’t have to settle for anything else.”

“You’re eighteen, Mark. Come back to me in a couple of years and we’ll see if you feel the same.”

“I’m not a child,” says Mark sternly, and his voice is so serious Yuta almost feels ashamed. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?”

They’ve both finished their beers, and somewhere in the middle of the conversation they’ve turned to face each other, Mark’s knees hugged close to his chest. He looks beautiful and young and full of hope. Yuta knows he probably used to look like that, too. 

“I used to be in love with someone,” he says slowly, and doesn’t miss the way Mark’s eyes go slightly wide at that, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I knew it was hopeless from the start. I knew it would never be anything more than one-sided. So I chose second best again. We became friends. And at first I thought it was unfair, having to settle for that, but these days… it feels like a good thing. Like it was meant to go this way.” 

Another long pause.

“Is it your friend Ten?” Yuta’s expression must be clearly shocked, because Mark immediately back-pedals. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to imply that you – it’s just that you guys seem close, and – “ 

“It wasn’t Ten.” He laughs at the thought. “He’s my best friend. An obnoxiously hot one at that, I’ll admit.” A chuckle escapes his lips. “But I was never in love with him.” 

“Then why do you say it was doomed from the start?” 

“Because he doesn’t like men,” says Yuta matter-of-factly, which shuts up Mark immediately. “He didn’t back then and he doesn’t now. So. There is that.” 

Yuta doesn’t exactly know why Mark is blushing right now. Or maybe he does, and doesn’t want to dwell on it. Mark clears his throat. 

“How did you…” His blush darkens and he clears his throat again. “How did you know? Like, for sure?”

“That I was gay?” Yuta is a little surprised, but Mark just flushes an even brighter red and nods, not speaking a word. “I guess I just figured it out along the way. In high school I thought making out with girls was boring. Like, not bad,” he laughs at the memory, “it didn’t make me wanna cut off my tongue or anything, but it just did nothing for me. And believe me, I tried. But then I moved to Tokyo, and I met Ten, and everyone else. I think the most reaction I got from any of them when I officially came out was okay, cool. Which shocked me at first, until I realised… it wasn’t a big deal. Mostly, people don’t care. And if they do, you’re hanging out with the wrong kind of people.” 

He looks at Mark, who has been nodding frantically the entire time. 

“Are you okay, Mark-chan?” 

He doesn’t know why it slips out like that, and he especially doesn’t know why Mark looks like he’s on the verge of tears. 

“Do your parents know?” 

The question doesn’t really surprise Yuta anymore.

“Yeah. I mean, they weren’t super thrilled when I told them, but they’re good people. They said they’ll always love me no matter what and all that stuff, even though my dad still refuses to say the word gay and calls it my _personal preference_. Like we’re talking about what pizza toppings I like.” Yuta shakes his head, a little exasperated. “But they’ve made progress. It’s a process, I guess. I think my mum is still a little salty that I won’t give her a herd of grandchildren.” He waits for Mark to say something, then he waits a little longer, but Mark is just hugging his knees tight and staring pointedly at the dark sea below them. So, very quietly, Yuta asks: “Do yours know?” 

Mark looks at him, eyes round and big and almost scared, and he looks a little bit like someone suddenly turned the spotlight on him on a stage and he really wasn’t expecting it. Yuta wouldn’t blame him if he just got up and left. He’s been there too. 

“They – I – “ Mark swallows thickly. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard! There was even a girl at my school who gave me a – “ he stops suddenly there, flushing red. “It just. It didn’t work.” 

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you’re not attracted to someone.” 

Mark finally allows himself to smile a little. 

“How are you so confident about it?” he asks, voice small. Yuta kind of wants to hug him because he knows exactly what it feels like. But he also knows this: he never had someone who was there for him through it all, and maybe if he had, things would’ve been easier. He wants things to be easier for Mark. He hates seeing him look so ashamed, and afraid. 

“Practice? Coming to terms with the fact that no matter what you do, the world will never be pleased with you? There will always be something people think they can use against you. So I stopped thinking of who I am as a weapon that could hurt me.” 

“But how did you know _for sure_?” 

“I think sticking my dick in a guy and liking it was a step in the right direction.”

“ _Hyung_!”

“Sorry,” he’s not, “you’re just – it’s not as big of a deal as you think, Mark. Kissing works too,” he adds, more gentle, because he knows Mark is vulnerable right now and he has to constantly remind himself that he’s only eighteen, and he’s more than allowed to be confused and freaked out. 

“That sounds… nice.”

Yuta looks at him. He looks less scared. More curious.

“Mark Lee, are you asking me to kiss you?”

“How do you know my last name?”

“It’s on the doorbell. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“Why would you just – “ he gestures wildly with his hands “ – ask me that?” 

“Because I don’t like to assume. And maybe I want to hear you say it.” 

Mark hides his face in his hands, which makes Yuta laugh.

“Please kill me now. And pretend this conversation never happened.”

“That doesn’t sound like – “ 

“Yes?” He lifts his face a little, and his eyes are bright, more determined. “Yes,” he repeats. 

“Why?”

Mark makes a whiny sound and Yuta is really having trouble keeping his hands to himself. The other boy looks flustered and slightly annoyed and more than a little excited. He keeps rubbing his legs with his hands. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want to kiss me because you need to figure something out for yourself? Because if so, that’s okay too. I don’t mind.” 

Yuta was never one to play games, not since he started to figure himself out. He always tells it like it is, and asks for the same honesty in return.

“Not… really?” Mark is so on edge it’s like he’s about to jump out of his skin. “I think I just, um, I just want to. It’s… I’ve been thinking about it. You. I’ve been thinking about you.”

It’s clear it takes a lot of courage for him to say that, and Yuta knows how to be patient – but only to an extent.

“Come here. Closer,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper.

Mark goes wide-eyed again but does as he’s told, and he shuffles closer to Yuta, then half-stands awkwardly on his knees and just looks at him. Yuta stretches his legs, spreads them a little, pats his thigh. Mark seems to finally get the message. He’s shaking with nerves and excitement as he tentatively climbs over Yuta’s lap, knees bracketing his legs, and he just hovers there for a second until Yuta plants his hands on his hips – they’re soft, even through the fabric – and Mark relaxes a bit, now fully seated on his lap, still shaky with anticipation. 

“Um.” He darts a look at him then looks down again immediately. “Hi.” 

Yuta chuckles softly, then squeezes his hip and lets his fingers travel very gently up Mark’s arm, leaving goosebumps behind, then to his neck, the curve of his jaw. His skin is so smooth. Yuta feels a tug in his stomach, wishes he could bite into the softness of that skin, but – no. This is not the time. He strokes Mark’s cheek, hands so delicate the other can barely feel them, a feather-like touch all over his skin. Mark parts his lips to let out a soft pant, and Yuta closes his eyes for a second at the sound. When he opens them again, Mark’s face is suddenly much closer to his, and he can make out every single detail on it, could draw a map out of every little crease and mole. Yuta buries his hand in Mark’s hair, and it’s soft, twirls deliciously around his fingers. He keeps his touch light. Doesn’t tug, doesn’t push. 

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

Mark laughs breathlessly, and they’re so close Yuta can faintly feel it reverberate on his skin.

“Can’t you tell?” 

“Show me, then.”

Mark clearly didn’t expect that, and he freezes for a second. Yuta has barely the time to fear he scared him away, because suddenly Mark is running a finger down his chest, from the dip between his neck and collarbones down to his belly button. He splays a hand against his stomach, lets it move up again to Yuta’s chest, almost as if he’s trying to memorize the way his body feels under his fingers. Mark eventually lets his hands rest on Yuta’s shoulders, bends down a little and kisses him. 

It’s only a touch of lips at first, but Yuta feels it in his whole body – feels his muscles tensing up, and he presses Mark a little closer, chests brushing against each other. This time he does pull a bit on the hair at the nape of his neck, and Mark makes a sound really close to a moan, mouth opening slightly. Yuta traces his tongue across his bottom lip, and he can feel Mark shiver in his grip. He tightens the hold on his hips as he slips his tongue inside Mark’s mouth, and he’s met with no resistance – eagerness, instead. Mark kisses him open-mouthed and a little messy, saliva at the corners of his mouth, and he grips Yuta’s shirt to tug him closer, plastering himself against him and closing his thighs around his body on instinct. 

Yuta slows him down a little, turns the kiss deeper and more heated, stroking down Mark’s back and reveling in all the little sounds he makes whenever Yuta touches him. He can’t help himself when he bucks his hips up a little, and Mark moans loudly in his mouth, grinds down on him before suddenly breaking the kiss. Yuta feels himself get harder just at the sight of him, skin pink and flushed and eyes glossy, almost unfocused. 

“Fuck,” says Mark, out of breath. He grinds down a little again and this time they both moan, and Yuta’s hands fly at his hips again, half to stop him, half hoping he’ll keep going. “Fuck, Yuta,” he says again, blinking a couple of times as if he can’t quite believe what’s happening. “I think I might be very, very gay.” Yuta hides his face against his neck. “Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not,” he lies, still smiling. He bites his neck just a little, enough to make Mark tremble, then looks at him again. “You’re just so beautiful. It’s a little unreal.” 

“You’re telling me,” replies Mark, and this time he’s mirroring his smile, still looking a little incredulous. “This feels… It feels good. Just to be close to you.” He flushes. “Is that a weird thing to say?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Sounds perfect to me.” 

Mark laughs, then throws his arms around his neck and buries his face against Yuta’s chest, breath evening out, electricity still all over him but a little more subdued, less urgent. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” 

“ _Yes, Mark._ Of course. Do you really think I’d be able to stay away?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know… what you want.” 

His voice is a little muffled by Yuta’s shirt, so Yuta bends his head a little to kiss the top of his head. 

“You said it. Just to be close to you. That’s all.” 

“Okay.” Mark lifts his head, dares to sneak a quick peck at Yuta’s lips. He’s smiling now. “Me too. I… Me too, Yuta. Senpai,” he adds, just to be a little shit, and Yuta shoves him in retaliation – and somehow they end up making out again, bodies pressed against each other. 

  


_July 20th 2019, 2.16 a.m. – Udo Island, Jeju-do, South Korea_

  


Tonight 

As if I was on fire 

From within

The moon lives in the lining 

Of your skin 

I crave your mouth

Your voice your hair 

Silent and starving 

I pace around hungry 

Sniffing the twilight 

  


_July 23rd 2019, 10.24 p.m. – Udo Island, Jeju-do, South Korea_

  


“So, are your grandparents okay with this?”

Mark laughs, hits him on the arm lightly.

“Are you kidding? They’re overjoyed I’m finally making friends.” 

Yuta smiles a little secretly and their eyes meet.

“Are we friends?” 

Mark just smiles back in response.

There’s a party on the beach – they don’t really know for which festival or local holiday, but a party is a party – and it offers partially decent music and cheap drinks, so that’s enough for everybody. Yuta’s friends don’t seem surprised to see him arrive with Mark, although Ten still can’t hide his self-satisfied smirk, and Yangyang even drags Mark away for some shots. 

“So he follows you around now?” yells Ten over the music.

“Don’t be a dick, I invited him. What?” he adds, seeing the sour expression on his face. Ten is looking at Mark and Yangyang, who are currently by the bar downing shots of tequila. 

“Nothing. I assume you’re smart enough to know you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, right?” 

“We barely know each other,” Yuta lets out an airy laughter. “We’re just… hanging out.” 

Ten looks at him, really looks at him, then shakes his head. 

“You’re not a good liar.” 

Yuta decides to ignore him because Ten really doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and opts for sneaking behind Mark and lacing his arms around his waist. He sees Yangyang lift an eyebrow but he doesn’t mind him. 

“Oh, hey.” Mark blushes so prettily when he turns around so Yuta tightens his hold on him, resting his head on his shoulder. He can faintly smell the alcohol and lemon juice. 

“Sorry. Am I bothering you?”

“No, I – um – “ 

Mark looks down at Yuta’s hands, fingers intertwined right below his chest, then back at him. 

“Come on,” Yuta gives him a smirk, “dance with me.”

“I don’t really dance?” 

Yuta laughs, drags him down from the barstool and into the crowd, people kicking sand in the air with every stomp, the flickering lights making the beach look otherworldly. 

“First time for everything.” 

True to his word, Mark is extremely awkward on the dance floor, and Yuta ends up taking pity on him; they eventually drift to where the rest of their friends are seated. Mark makes to sit down, but Yuta lets out a displeased sound and pulls him onto his lap instead. Just the expression on Mark’s face is worth it. 

“Are you always this,” Mark snickers, clearly embarrassed as Yuta settles him more comfortably on his lap and mouths behind his ear, “… affectionate?”

“No,” he replies honestly, “but it seems I can’t help myself.” 

This time Mark turns around properly so he can look at him in the eyes, and his own are giddy above heated cheeks. 

“I like it,” he admits quietly, so no one else will hear. “Feeling… like you want me.” 

He says the last part not being able to look at Yuta anymore, and the way his voice almost cracks sends shivers down his whole body. Yuta grips his waist tighter and mouths the words against his ear: “I more than want you, baby.”

“Jesus, get a room,” says Kun somewhere in the background, but he sounds amused. 

Yuta raises an eyebrow.

“Let’s go for a walk?” 

Mark just smiles as they hurriedly get up together and almost run towards the beach, seeking the refuge of the shade, only illuminated by the faraway lights on the dance floor and the few visible stars above. Yuta sits by the sea, getting the cuffs of his pants wet, and Mark doesn’t waste any time in straddling him, looking almost surprised by his own boldness. 

“Seems I can’t help myself either,” he says, cheeky, and Yuta pulls him down for a kiss. 

Mark presses him into the sand, messing up his hair, lips hot and still tasting a bit sour from the drinks he had. Yuta can’t get enough. He pulls Mark closer by the hair – he should stop doing that, except Mark makes this little high-pitched sound whenever he does – and kisses and bites and licks until their lips are red and swollen. They break apart for a second, Yuta leaning on his elbows and Mark still above him, pants escaping his mouth. 

“Holy fuck you’re beautiful,” says Mark a little starstruck, looking down at him. 

Yuta doesn’t know why that makes heat rise to his cheeks, but he welcomes the feeling anyway and just looks up at Mark, hair tousled, his shirt slipping off one shoulder. He wants to tear him apart and put him back together. God, he wants to fucking worship him – every inch of his skin.

“Ten is right.”

“He’s – what? About what?” 

“Nothing. I like you.” 

Mark smiles down at him, looking pleased with himself.

“You do?”

“What, you couldn’t tell?” 

“No, it’s just – nice. To, um, hear you say that.” 

“Is this weird?” Yuta suddenly feels worried. “Are we moving too fast? I mean, it’s not even been a week, I should back off – “ 

“Don’t,” Mark is suddenly very close again, “don’t you dare go anywhere. Okay? I don’t care if it’s fast, or sudden, or whatever. I like you too,” he adds, voice a little smaller. The way he kisses him makes Yuta’s whole body feel like shattering glass. “I like being with you.” 

“I wish,” says Yuta after a while, and it’s a whisper, “we could have met differently. I wish I could have shown you my world, and you yours.” 

“Tell me about it, then.”

“What?” 

“Your life, back in Tokyo. I want to know everything.”

So Yuta does tell him. Mark slowly climbs off him and they lie together on the sand, eyes fixed on the sky and hands latched together. Yuta tells him about missing Osaka and at the same time not ever wanting to go back – because he doesn’t want to slip back into his old persona, into the little (not) comfortable box society had made for him. He tells him he’s afraid of what’s gonna happen once he goes back to Japan. He tells Mark he wishes he was brave enough to be the poet and fly high, instead he’s the albatross stuck on the boat with his wings clipped; clumsy, stumbling, unfit. 

Mark tells him about his own life too. Yuta doesn’t notice how long they’ve been talking until he suddenly realises they’re the only people left on the beach, and the sun is about to rise. But his mind is not there. His mind is with Mark, back in Canada, in a push and pull of expectations and a desperate run for freedom – headed to Seoul, where maybe, just maybe, Mark can find himself without having to wear all the labels people try to stick on him. 

“What happens next?” asks Mark after a while, as they watch the light slowly unfurl its fingers where the sea and horizon meet. “When we go back.” 

“You know what happens. Life goes on. We move on too.” 

They’re both silent for a while.

“I’m not gonna be the same person I was when I left,” says Mark eventually, and it’s a very real thing to say: it weighs above them, heavy in its truth. Yuta looks at him. Wonders how is it possible for this boy to be so brave – to speak so loudly even when he’s whispering. “I don’t want to be.” 

Yuta wishes he could be the same, have enough heart left in him to throw caution to the wind. He also wonders when he became this way – when exactly it happened, when was it that he got kicked down so hard that when he got up again he was limping. He found his voice in Tokyo, and lost it again in the same place. He says all of it out loud. 

Mark kisses him. Looks at him.

“Find it here,” he says softly. He doesn’t say _with me_. He doesn’t need to. 

The way Yuta gets introduced to Mark’s grandparents a few days later is not exactly smooth. He’s draped all over Mark and they’re making out on the couch – they didn’t even make it to Mark’s room – when they suddenly hear a car pulling up. Yuta flings himself to the other side of the couch and the door suddenly opens. Mark and him both are red in the face, and he’s pretty sure two of his shirt buttons are still undone. Mark’s grandma looks like she’s trying really hard not to laugh, once she gets a look at them. 

Regardless, Yuta gets up and politely introduces himself in Korean, and Mark’s grandfather goes on for a while about how Mark is finally getting out of his bubble, either oblivious or in denial. From the look on his wife’s face, she knows exactly what’s going on, but spares them and says nothing about it. 

“That,” says Mark slowly, once his grandparents are out in the garden, “was a close call.” 

“We should just go to my place. I can kick Ten out of the room.” He sees the look on Mark’s face and something drops in his stomach. He gets this sudden urge, sometimes, when he looks at Mark – like he wants to shelter him from anything that could hurt him, including himself. Which is stupid, of course, because Mark is not a child and can very well fend for himself, but Yuta can’t bring himself to be rational when it comes to him. “I know people usually think _come over to my place_ is code for sex,” he says slowly, “but in this case it’s just. Literally. Come over? We can chill with the others, if you want, play games or something. I just don’t want to look over my shoulder every time I kiss you.” 

Mark is still staring at him, something unreadable in his expression. Then he yells: “We’re heading out!” and drags Yuta out of the house. They hold hands as they walk, which Yuta doesn’t think he’s ever done with anyone before he met Mark – and it feels weird, and sweet, and oddly too much. 

“I’ve never had sex,” blurts out Mark all of a sudden. He’s still staring straight ahead of him.

“… Okay.” 

“You don’t find that strange?” 

Yuta squeezes his hand and holds off a smile, because he can tell Mark is somehow sensitive about this.

“Not really. Why should I?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, there’s been the handjob incident,” he adds with a grimace, and this time Yuta does allow himself to laugh, “but not much else.” 

“Mark,” he slows down a little until they both stop, sun blazing on their heads, “we don’t have to do anything. I told you.” 

“I know. I… I know that. But, um, I’ve been thinking about it. Kind of all the time. Fuck, that is weird, isn’t it? Should I just stop talking? I probably should.”

He gives a nervous laughter and their hands are both sweaty and Yuta is trying to not let what Mark just said get to his head too much because – shit. _Of course_ he’s been thinking about it too. He’s been trying so hard not to, because he figured Mark had never been with a guy before and he knows his experiences with girls haven’t exactly been successful, and he’d rather have to jerk off three times a day than accidentally pressure him into doing something he doesn’t want. But apparently he does. Does he? Yuta really needs to stop thinking about it, because his brain is supplying him with less than chaste images and this is not exactly a good time to pop a boner, unless he _really_ wants to freak Mark out.

“Please say something.” 

“I’m sorry,” says Yuta quickly. “I was just… How do I say this?” 

“Do you not want to?” asks Mark, so quickly it’s even a little hard to make out the words. 

Yuta looks at him. 

“Is that a serious question or are you just making fun of me?”

“No, I – “ He laughs a little, and he sounds relieved. “It was a serious question. I don’t want to assume stuff.” 

“Mark, I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny since I was like, fourteen.” 

Mark is still giggling.

“You’re starting to say _like_ a lot too. Maybe you’re spending too much time with me.” 

“I like you.” 

“Not like that.” 

“I thought you liked hearing me say it?” he grins, and for some reason Yuta can’t stop smiling even when Mark pulls him close and kisses him. 

“You’re gross.” 

“You’re still kissing me.” 

“Yeah,” Mark smiles against his lips, tugs on his belt a bit. “What can I say. You’re pretty to look at. You’re also all sweaty,” he adds, hands slipping under his shirt, fingernails grazing at the small of his back. 

“You are too, but you don’t hear me complaining about it, you whiny baby.”

“Mm-mh.” 

They just stand there in the blazing heat, kissing for what feels like forever. It’s all so upside down Yuta can’t wrap his head around any of it, but fuck, he loves it all the same. 

They’re laughing about something when they finally get to Yuta’s place, and Xiaojun and Kunhang look up at them from where they’re sitting on the couch, playing some game on Kunhang’s phone. They ask them to join, and soon after they also beg them to leave when it becomes clear the two are much less interested in gaming and much more into making out. 

“This place is hot as fuck,” grumbles Yuta, closing the bedroom door behind him and looking for the AC remote. The old thing barely works anymore, but it’s better than nothing. Mark flops onto his bed, then rolls on his stomach and buries his face in Yuta’s pillow, inhaling deeply. Yuta can feel his hands shake a bit as he sets down the remote. 

Mark flips on his back again and grins at him. 

“Come here.” 

Yuta wastes no time in doing just that, and crawls on the bed next to Mark. His smile is so pretty – so honest, open. Mark genuinely looks happy. It makes Yuta feel all sorts of things. 

He kisses him. Mark’s body immediately goes pliant under his, and Yuta lets himself enjoy the feeling, the way Mark shakes when his hands travel down his stomach and lift his shirt up a bit, the little whines he makes whenever Yuta is about to pull away – which make it impossible to. His fingers stroke softly over Mark’s stomach until his shirt is lifted almost all the way up, and when he pinches a nipple Mark finally breaks the kiss and quickly pulls his shirt over his head, chucking it somewhere on the floor. 

“Fuck, how are you so gorgeous?” mutters Yuta, leaving a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth and then latching his lips onto Mark’s neck, leaving bites all over his skin.

“I’m – ah – I’m not – Yuta – “ 

Yuta flicks his tongue against his nipple, then follows the path all the way from Mark’s chest to his stomach, nibbling at the soft flesh of his hips. Mark starts squirming, breathing ragged, and Yuta looks up at him for a second. 

“Shirt,” begs Mark, so Yuta complies, taking it off so quickly it gets stuck and they both laugh breathlessly for a few seconds before they kiss again. Mark drags his nails across Yuta’s back, then rubs his fingers over the lines of his abs, a pleased sound escaping his lips. 

“Yuta,” he says again, this time more strained, “fucking hell, you look so hot, _fuck_ – “ 

He moans way too loudly when Yuta cups his dick through his shorts, and throws his head back, throat pale and exposed. He’s so hard already. Yuta feels a rush of power run through him.

“You like this, baby?” he says, breathless, rubbing him through the fabric. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and makes another one of those sounds that go straight to Yuta’s dick. 

“Yes – god, I love it – please, Yuta.”

Yuta doesn’t precisely know what Mark is asking for, and Mark probably doesn’t either, but he’s all flushed and hard and the heat and arousal are making his skin glow, so Yuta is not thinking clearly. He tugs Mark’s shorts down just a bit to see his reaction, then takes them off all the way when he gets some enthusiastic nodding as a response, and slots a thigh in between Mark’s legs. His underwear is already wet with precum, and Mark immediately cants his hips up to rub himself against Yuta’s thigh. 

“Wait,” he whispers, and Mark immediately stills, which makes Yuta’s head spin. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” 

“ _Please_.” 

He’s not sure what Mark is expecting, but by the yelp of surprise he lets out when Yuta mouths at his cock through the underwear, it wasn’t this. 

“Holy fuck. Okay. Um. Okay.” 

“Mark, breathe,” he laughs a little, biting his inner thigh playfully, and Mark grasps fistfuls of sheets and breathes deeply through his mouth. “This is okay, right?” 

“Yes, Yuta. God. I’m probably gonna last five seconds.” 

“Just relax,” he hums, kissing swiftly on the same spot he bit. Then he pulls Mark’s boxers down to his thighs and watches greedily as his dick leaks all over his stomach. 

“You’re staring.”

“So what?” Yuta licks up a stripe on his thigh and Mark trembles. “You’re pretty.”

“Seriously?” he stutters.

“Sorry, I meant: your dick is very manly and handsome.” 

Mark laughs, hiding his face with a hand for a second. 

“ _Idiot_ ,” he says in Korean, and Yuta grins and swallows him down in one go without warning. Mark lets out a strangled moan, body convulsing on the bed, and Yuta swirls his tongue against the tip a few times before pulling off with a pop and whispering: “You can put your hands in my hair.” 

It seems Mark was just waiting for him to say that, because he immediately buries his hands in Yuta’s hair and honest to god _sobs_ once Yuta takes him into his mouth again – more slowly this time, lips tight around his dick. He brings up a hand to stroke Mark’s balls and gets a sharp tug on his hair and another moan in return. 

He pulls off only slightly to murmur: “Look at me,” and Mark does just that, eyes wide and almost teary while Yuta sucks at the tip, tongues alongside the vein then swallows him down again, this time all the way until it gets a little hard to breathe. He looks up at Mark once more, mouth hot and wet on his cock, and hollows his cheeks. Mark’s thighs start to shake, and Yuta would smile if he could. He lets Mark move his hips a bit, spit leaking from his mouth, and it’s wet and messy when Yuta teases a finger against his entrance, just barely circling his hole with a thumb while he bobs up his head and almost lets Mark’s dick slip out of his mouth, only to swallow him down again. He gathers some more spit on his finger and adds a little pressure, still not pushing it in, only teasing, and it’s too much for Mark. 

“Fuck – Yuta – I – I – “ 

He knows Mark is about to come – he’s shaking like a leaf – so he holds his hips down forcefully, lets his cock hit the back of his throat and sucks _hard_ , his thumb still pushing against Mark’s hole. Mark doesn’t even try to keep it down as he lets out a choked moan and comes right down Yuta’s throat, and he’s never liked swallowing much but really wants to see more of that fucked out expression on Mark’s face, so he sucks him dry and swallows what he can, pulling off only when Mark is going soft. He knows he looks filthy, come at the corner of his lips, and he grins, giving a teasing lick at Mark’s oversensitive tip. He jerks away. 

“Oh my god,” he offers weakly, and Yuta comes up to kiss him just to annoy him – but doesn’t expect it when Mark returns the kiss hungrily, licking his own come off Yuta’s lips then kissing him even deeper.

“Good?” manages Yuta, and his voice sounds way rougher than he expected, which elicits another whine from Mark. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” he mumbles. “Is it customary to say thank you after a blowjob?”

Yuta laughs and kisses down Mark’s throat.

“You’re welcome?” 

“Let me – “ Mark shifts a bit so they’re both lying on their side, then leans in again to kiss him, trying to unbuckle Yuta’s pants with one hand. He thinks he tries to say something like _you don’t have to_ , which doesn’t sound convincing at all, but Mark cuts him off by biting his shoulder harshly and growling: “I _want to_.” 

They manage to drag Yuta’s pants and underwear down enough to get his cock free – fucking finally, he feels like he’s about to combust – and he would tell Mark where the lube is, except Mark just spits into his hand and wraps it around Yuta’s cock and. Oh. Okay. That works too. 

He’s still for a second before he starts moving his hand up and down, clearly experimenting, thumbing at the slit which makes Yuta whine. 

“Am I – “ Mark is still staring down at his dick with something akin to wonder, which is admittedly doing a lot for Yuta’s ego, “ – doing it right?” 

“Yeah, Mark – fuck – everything you do, I swear to god – you’re making me lose my mind – “ 

Mark smiles a bit at that and, still mostly naked, gets even closer to Yuta. Now his dick is rubbing against Mark’s stomach too, and Yuta is having a really hard time breathing properly. He hides his face in the crook of Mark’s neck, skin sweaty and throat still feeling raw, and he watches too as Mark jerks him off quickly, gets all in Yuta’s space until there’s not a centimeter left between their bodies. Yuta grabs a handful of Mark’s ass and comes suddenly when Mark moans loudly at the gesture, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers and spilling over them both. His body goes slack against Mark’s, and he kisses delicately along his collarbone, then up until their lips meet again. The whole world feels out of focus – everything except Mark, the curve of his nose, the slope of his shoulders, the way their legs mingle and their hands are still all over each other. 

“You’re so good,” whispers Yuta, and Mark keens. 

“God, don’t talk, you’ll make me get hard again.”

Yuta chuckles lowly. “I can make you come again too, you know. With my hands, my mouth, whatever you want.” 

“Seriously, keep talking like that and I might never leave this bed.” 

“I’m not sure I would complain.” 

Mark does end up getting hard again, and he rubs himself against Yuta until he comes a second time, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, red and slick. 

“God, Yuta, _your thighs_ – “ 

“Mmh, what about them?” Mark makes an incoherent sound. “You like to rub yourself against me, baby? Come all over me?” 

“Fuck, Yuta!” This time Mark clamps a hand over his mouth and Yuta smirks against his palm. “Are you trying to get me going again? Because I don’t think I would survive.” 

He bites a little and Mark removes his hand, then yelps when Yuta picks him up swiftly and settles him over his lap. God, he loves the way Mark looks like that. His brain suggests he would love it even more if Mark was riding his cock and – okay, time to stop that train of thought right there. 

“We’re disgusting,” comments Mark, looking down at the both of them. “Seriously. We need to clean up.” 

“Shower?”

“Isn’t the bathroom down the corridor? _We have to go out like this?_ ” he squeaks as soon as he realises, and Yuta laughs, sitting up a bit and allowing Mark to slide off his lap. 

“Just put on your underwear or something. It’s not like we’ve been exactly subtle anyway.” 

They make a run for the bathroom, still unable to avoid the mildly disgusted but entertained looks from Yuta’s friends, and Mark locks the door behind them. He rests his forehead against it.

“So that’s it. I will never be able to look at them in the face again.” 

“I’m sure it’s not – “ 

Yuta faintly hears Ten crack open the door of their shared bedroom, then he slams it shut again. 

“At least open a window, you fucking animals!” 

“Not that bad?” snorts Mark. 

Yuta grins and pulls him into the shower, pushing him against the tiles after he turns on the water. 

  


_July 28th 2019, 11.58 a.m. – Udo Island, Jeju-do, South Korea_

  


“I’m sorry,” grins Mark apologetically, flicking an ant off his arm and reaching up to pick up a lemon. “I promised my parents I would take care of the garden while they were gone. Thank god I’m spared meeting my cousins this year.” 

“Are they that awful?” asks Yuta, ripping off a few weeds and scratching at a mosquito bite on his leg. 

“Yes,” replies Mark immediately. He stares into the distance with a vaguely disgusted expression on his face, and Yuta chuckles. “Really. I’m pretty sure my grandparents only go because they like my aunt’s cat.” 

“I don’t mind,” Yuta wipes some sweat off his forehead. “I mean, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a gardening date before, so it’s a nice change.”

They smile quietly at each other. 

“Watch and learn, city boy.” 

“You literally live in Vancouver.” 

“Hey, at least I know the difference between blueberries and poisonous berries!” 

“I’m sure they’re _not_ poisonous, you’re just being dramatic – “ 

They keep bantering back and forth for a while, picking lemons and fending off the mosquitoes. Yuta lost his shirt to the heat a while ago, and Mark quickly followed suit; now the sun has painted both of their backs red. Yuta stops for a second to look at Mark, who’s squatting to pick up some low-hanging fruits, the muscles in his thighs tense and a few odd freckles dotting his shoulders. His hair is dry and sticky with seawater from when they went to the beach earlier. Yuta feels his hands itch. He wants to reach out. Touch. Hold him and forget that anything else but him ever existed. 

“Come on, you said you would help!” 

“I _am_ helping.” 

“Yes, I’m sure standing and staring into the void is very productive.” 

“I’m not staring into the void,” Yuta laughs and eventually gets back to work, “I was looking at you.” 

“Oh.” 

It’s a small sound, both shy and pleased. Yuta feels a smile tug at his lips, but he keeps it for himself a little longer. 

“Can I ask you something?” says Mark after a while. He’s washing his hands in the sink near the backdoor, keeping his back to Yuta. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer. “Are you… are you still in love with that person? The one you told me about?”

Yuta stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t turn to look at Mark. He just stares at the ants crawling over tree branches for a minute, and thinks. Because he could say no, obviously. He could also say it’s none of Mark’s business, although he isn’t sure that’s even true. Instead, Yuta thinks. About Sicheng and all the times he almost told him. About how it used to feel, whenever Sicheng mentioned he was dating someone. About how it feels now, to see him smile at girls on the dance floor, to see him dance with them after he’s gathered up some courage. Yuta smiles fondly. Then he finally turns to look at Mark, only to find the other boy is already looking at him, eyes dark, a crease in his forehead. Yuta can practically hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his throat.

“No,” says Yuta, voice low. “I’m not in love with him anymore. I haven’t been for a while, probably.” He pauses, clears his throat. “Do you really think I would be here with you, if I still loved him?”

“You told me you dated other guys while still being in love with him.”

Mark sounds a tad bitter, mostly insecure. No – mostly scared. He’s looking at him like a cornered animal, terrified he’ll get the answer he fears. 

“I did,” admits Yuta. He steps away from the tree, gets closer to Mark. He doesn’t touch him yet, just watches. “I never really had feelings for any of the people I dated back then, though.”

_Do you have feelings for me?_

Mark doesn’t ask, but his eyes are doing it for him. He’s breathing a little too fast, blinking a little too slow, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk missing any of Yuta’s words. 

“Mark, how many days do I have left on this island?” 

“A week.” 

The reply is immediate.

“And I’ve known you for two. Which would make it foolish and naive if I told you I wish I could stay longer, that you could come back with me or I with you, if I told you I have feelings for you. Wouldn’t it?” 

“I – Yuta – “ 

“Because I do have feelings. And I wish for all those things. But fate is not on our side here.” 

Mark places a hand firmly on the back of his neck, has to look up a bit to meet Yuta’s eyes. Yuta wonders how is it possible – that two weeks ago he looked like a boy, and now he looks like a man. 

“Fuck fate.” Yuta laughs briefly. “I mean it. Fuck it. I – “ he seems to be out of breath for a second “ – I love you, and you’re leaving in a week, and I will never see you again. And it will be hell. You think I don’t know? But I love you. I – I really do,” he repeats, voice dropping a bit now. He looks paler. Suddenly Yuta realises he’s shaking – they both are. 

“This – fuck, Mark – you’re eighteen, you’re not supposed to be in love, you’re supposed to have fun, fool around, you’re – “ 

“I’m in love with you. You… don’t have to feel the same. I just had to say it.” 

“You’re about to go to college! You have no idea who you’ll meet and how it will change you.”

“I met you. And I know exactly how it changed me.”

It’s all wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this – Yuta is supposed to be the one harboring secret feelings, which he will take back with him to Japan, and mourn the loss of what could have been. Not Mark. He’s supposed to be Mark’s summer fling, his experimental phase before he goes off to greater things. Mark is _not_ supposed to remember him. Yuta can deal with heartbreak. He’s not sure Mark can. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers, and Mark’s fingers tense a little on his skin, then relax again. He slides off his hand.

“That’s fair. I’m… I’m sorry, Yuta. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

_I wish you hadn’t._

_I wish I could pick second best again._

“It’s safe, you know?” says Yuta slowly. “Not being a writer not because I failed, but because I didn’t try. Not telling Sicheng I loved him and feeling sorry for myself, but content to be his friend, never having to bear the weight of rejection. Because I didn’t say anything.” If Mark is surprised to hear Sicheng’s name, he doesn’t show it. “I wasn’t going to say anything, even now. I was going to keep it for myself and go back and feel entitled to sadness because _i_ _t would have never worked out anyway._ It’s hard to feel disappointment when you’re not expecting anything to begin with. How can you lose anything – anyone – when you didn’t even try to get it in the first place? It’s a very grey way to live. Not good. But good enough.” He exhales. “There was an earthquake in Japan, last spring. When my parents called me from Osaka to make sure I was okay, I didn’t know what to say. When it happened, I watched all my stuff come crashing down from the shelves. I didn’t move. I didn’t do anything. I just thought to myself, does it even matter? There are always earthquakes. It’s not like I can prevent it, no matter what I do. So why bother? People die anyway. People leave anyway. No matter what you do, life…” he takes a breath, struggling to keep still, “it will always find a way to kick you down, if you aim too high. So I settle. I aim right below where I really want and tell myself it’s better that way, because I wouldn’t have gotten far anyway even if I tried.” They look at each other. Yuta can see tears in Mark’s eyes, and wonders for a second why there aren’t any in his own. “I’m still going back to Tokyo next week, no matter what.” 

“I know.”

Mark’s voice sounds strained, and weak. Yuta closes his eyes for a second, allows himself to imagine the life he wants – and will never have. It’s a childish dream. Hope, unfulfilled. 

“Mark?”

“Yeah.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, looks at him. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Mark doesn’t say anything for a while. Then shakes his head. “Can we… can we go inside, then?”

It rains that night, which seems only fitting. They sleep in Mark’s bed, both of them awake, Mark wrapped in Yuta’s arms and staring at the lightning bolts through the window. 

When Mark finally falls asleep, Yuta looks at him for a long while, the storm slightly reflected on his face. He can almost feel the raindrops land on Mark’s cheeks. 

Yuta gets up. He leaves a note on the desk and walks away. 

A week later, he’s back in Tokyo and his soul feels heavier than it ever has. 

_Go to Seoul, Mark Lee. Meet new people. Live your life. Be brave for us both._

_I love you, and I won’t forget you. I wish you’d forget about me – quickly, as if none of this ever happened. I hope you find the happiness you deserve._

And then, the handwriting more shaky: _This is my address in Tokyo. We met on July 16th 2019. If by July 17th 2020 you still haven’t forgotten about me… then meet me at that address. A year, to forget, and an extra day to forgive me. In the meantime, don’t write to me, don’t call – I wouldn’t pick up. Please forget. Please don’t look back._

_ ~~Please don’t forget me. I love you. I love you.~~ _

Ten was right, after all. It did end in heartbreak.

  


_September 19th 2019, 4.11 a.m. – Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan_

  


Summer rolled around

I walked a lot the weather was beautiful I could never sleep

So it goes 

Things become bigger as I get smaller 

I think my wounds have healed but they left 

A nick like in old wood 

And my own self is slipping out of my body 

Drop by drop 

(less and less human)

There’s a thing in my head 

Running on empty, somehow

Dragging me from night to night 

I am drenched with memories 

Already rotting to begin with 

(I just sped up the process)

I made my life shiny and polished for outsiders

All sharp edges that say:

Do not enter

It’s a bloodbath 

Inside my pretty little castle

I am both outside and inside

Making the machine work 

  


_November 29th 2019, 2.35 p.m – Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan_

  


** From: Minatozaki Mina (minatozakimina@kodansha.bunkyosrl.com)  **

** To: Nakamoto Yuta (nakamoto.yuta@gmail.com)  **

Dear Mr. Nakamoto, 

My name is Minatozaki Mina and I’m writing you regarding the manuscript you sent in last month. I have read the first three chapters and would like to meet you to discuss it further. 

Let me know if Friday at 10 a.m. works for you. You will find my office on the second floor of the Kodansha main building in Bunkyo. 

I look forward to hearing from you again.

Minatozaki Mina 

_ Kodansha Assistant Editor  _

_Editorial Marketing PhD_

  


_December 31st 2019, 11.46 p.m. – Thonglor, Bangkok, Thailand_

  


“I’m quitting my job.” 

Ten makes wild gestures with his hands to signal the music is too loud, then drags Yuta to a more quiet corner. 

“Say that again?” he yells, trying to shield his ears from the noise.

“After we go back to Tokyo, I’m quitting my job.”

Ten stares at him, then asks Yuta to repeat it once more, so he does. After that, for some reason, he hugs him and starts sobbing against his shoulder. Yuta takes it. He doesn’t know why Ten is crying – but somehow feels like _he_ should be the one feeling emotional instead. Maybe that’s why. Maybe Ten knows Yuta lost that part of him somewhere along the way, and is crying not his own tears, but his best friend’s. Either way, Yuta is grateful. 

Hours later, while everyone is still partying but is also considerably more drunk, Yuta sneaks out to the roof. He thinks about the past few months; about leaving Jeju, about accepting a new job in Tokyo, about how disappointed his parents will be when he tells them he’s quitting and how both proud and horrified they’ll be to find out he’s been working with an editor and an agent for months now, and still hasn’t told anyone. Only briefly, he thinks of Mark. 

It’s a new year. He stares at the Bangkok sky, night illuminated everywhere, and waits for the familiar feeling to hit him: _what now? What do I do know?_

It doesn’t come. 

What he feels instead is a wave of fear and relief. Nothing is planned. Nothing is sure, or safe. Yuta is about to plunge right into the great unknown, with no way of knowing if he will come back unscathed, or come back at all. 

Perhaps safe was never what he needed – or what he wanted, either. 

So he texts Mark. 

  


_February 16th 2020, 4.17 p.m. – Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan_

**From: Mark-chan**

how was the meeting with the cover artist?? 

**To: Mark-chan**

he showed me three different options. one was only slightly less awful than the others 

**From: Mark-chan**

so you took it? 

**To: Mark-chan**

no. I told him to show me three more next week. my agent was pissed, but Mina just laughed it off so I think it’s okay

**From: Mark-chan**

second best isn’t enough anymore, is it?

  


_January 5th 2020, 9.45 p.m. – Dotombori District, Osaka, Japan / Gwanak-gu, Seoul, South Korea_

  


“Yuta?”

He’s quiet for a second.

“Hi, Mark. Sorry to call unannounced. Is it a bad time?” 

He hears some shuffling, a door closing, then quiet.

“No, it’s not… it’s not a bad time. Just. Fuck. It’s good to hear your voice.” He takes a few breaths. “I didn’t think you’d call.” 

There’s a long moment of silence, awkward, tense. 

Then Yuta asks: “How is Seoul?” 

Somehow, it goes from there. Mark tells him about campus life and his new friends and coming out to his parents over Christmas dinner, which made the whole holiday period really weird. He switches to Korean mid-conversation, and even though Yuta hasn’t practiced it in a few months he can still keep up. Mark’s accent is almost gone, only a faint trace of it in his vowels. They keep talking until it’s dinnertime, then Mark shyly suggests switching to a video-call so they don’t have to hang up while they’re making dinner, which turns out to be Mark heating up noodles in the building’s microwave. Yuta takes his time. Shows Mark his apartment’s kitchen, then starts making okonomiyaki – extra spicy – with Mark grinning at him from the screen, slightly pixelated because apparently the dorm’s Wi-Fi isn’t that great. 

“I can send you a picture later,” jokes Mark, while Yuta flips the ingredients in the pan, “so you can see my face in its full HD glory.” 

“Would you?”

Mark pauses. “Uh. I was – do you really want a picture?” 

“Yes.” 

Another beat of silence. “Okay. Yeah, I mean, sure. I can do that. Yeah. I like your hair, it looks longer.”

Yuta smiles a little. 

  


_March 18th 2020, 1.33 a.m. – Ikebukuro, Tokyo, Japan / Gwanak-gu, Seoul, South Korea_

“Why did you call?” 

They’re both sleepy, Yuta keeping his phone nestled between ear and shoulder, face sinking into the pillow. He blinks a couple of times. 

“What?” he asks, voice a bit slurred.

“I mean,” Mark clears his throat. He sounds more awake than him. “You left and told me not to contact you anymore. And then all of a sudden, six months later… you called.”

Yuta sits up a bit. They’ve been avoiding the topic, careful not to bring up anything related to Udo island or the time they spent there together, only talking about Mark’s classes and Yuta’s almost-career, sometimes sharing funny stories about their friends. But in over two months of daily phone calls, neither of them has ever mentioned the past. Yuta blearily wonders why Mark feels the need to talk about it right now, in the middle of the night separating an ordinary Thursday from yet another Friday.

“I was afraid,” says Yuta slowly. “I always run away when I’m scared. That time I didn’t want to run away at all. And I thought…” he hesitates, “back then, I wished I’d been better at handling my own fears. And now I wish… I wish I didn’t run away. Not like that.” Yuta pauses for a while, and he can hear Mark’s soft breaths on the other hand of the line. “I’m sorry, Mark.” It’s the first time he says it, but not the first time he feels it. The regret – it’s always there, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m so fucking sorry for being a coward.” 

“Did you leave because I told you I was in love with you?” 

It’s so blunt, unexpected. Mark has grown more confident during their time apart. Yuta swallows heavily, shifts to lie on his back, eyes trained to the ceiling. 

“Is that what you think?”

“Just answer the damn question, Yuta.”

He sounds upset. Both sad and angry. Yuta screws his eyes shut.

“I left because I was in love with you too,” he takes a shaky breath, “and I knew I couldn’t have you.”

“ _Bullshit_. You already had me.”

“No. I would’ve dragged you down with me. You were moving on, and I… I needed to grow. To come to terms with some things.” 

“ _Bullshit_. These are just excuses.” 

Mark sounds bitter, and Yuta thinks he has a right to be. He wishes he could reach out to him, touch him like he did all those months ago, but all he has now is a dark room, a phone and hands that have never felt emptier. Mark is so far away. 

“A year and a day, Yuta?” goes on Mark. “What the fuck was that about? What were you expecting me to do? Spend my whole first year of college thinking about you, pining over you – “ 

“No, please, that’s not what – “ 

“That’s exactly what you did!” Mark’s voice rises, and he sounds a little out of breath now. “It was all on your terms, all of it! When it started, when you called it off. When you expected me to come running back to you, after a whole year. Do I ever get a fucking saying in whatever _this_ is?”

“Mark.”

“What?” he asks angrily.

“Send me the location of your campus building.” 

“My – what – what for?” 

“I’m coming to Seoul. Tomorrow.” Yuta is already pulling a sweater over his head. “I’m going to Haneda airport. Right now.”

“You’re – Yuta, it’s the middle of the night, there aren’t any flights – “ 

“I’ll take the first one in the morning. Get my ticket at the airport.” 

“It’s gonna cost you a fortune!” 

“Yeah? So what. Fuck it. You were right. I was making excuses for myself. You were too young, you were going off to a different city in a whole different country, I was… I couldn’t allow myself to have my first choice, not even once. It was too scary. It was too much.” 

“Are you actually going to the airport?” 

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” Yuta grabs his coat, then stops at the door, passport in his pocket. “You _do_ have a saying in this, Mark. So I’m not making you wait for a stupid year, I’m coming to you instead. Only if you’ll have me, though. It’s your call.” 

There’s silence, for a long while. Yuta starts to grow anxious. 

“Why?” asks Mark eventually, voice small.

“Yes or no, Mark?”

“I – fuck Yuta, seriously, _fuck you_. Yes. But _why_.”

“Let me tell you in person.”

He hangs up then calls a cab. Less than two hours later he’s waiting in the cold, sitting on the ground outside the terminal’s closed doors. There are a few other people around him – tourists, mostly, and they all automatically gather close to each other because of the wind and the dark. The woman next to Yuta dozes off with her head on her bag, blond hair catching the few reflections of light coming from inside the airport. 

At six a.m., Yuta is boarding on a flight to Seoul. 

  


_March 19th 2020, 11.34 a.m – Seoul National University campus, Gwanak-gu, Seoul, South Korea_

  


Yuta, still glancing at the Google Maps tab on his phone, walks over to the campus building where the lecture is supposed to be over in about ten minutes. The SNU campus is full of students, Korean and Chinese and Japanese and American, so Yuta doesn’t stand out too much, even with his sleep-deprived face and worn backpack. 

He sits outside. There’s a small cafe and a garden in front of the building, so he decides to get some more coffee to wake him up (it’s his third or fourth since he landed, but he really needs to be awake for this) and sips on it with his eyes trained on the building doors. There are a few students there, probably in between lectures, and Yuta can hear their faint conversation carried by the wind together with the leaves and dust. 

Five minutes pass. Ten. Then fifteen. 

Yuta is growing nervous. Mark _told him_ the lecture would be over at 11.45, and even if he hadn’t told him Yuta would have remembered anyway – but maybe they’re running a bit late, maybe the professor still needs to go over a few topics, maybe Mark is with his friends and they’re chatting about plans for the night and he’s forgotten about Yuta altogether, or – 

He’s there. 

He hasn’t seen Yuta yet, but Yuta _sees him_. He looks so different. It’s been less than a year and they’ve been video-calling for months but still, it feels different. Even from afar, Mark looks a little taller (not by much, though, which makes Yuta smile) and his shoulders a little broader. He’s wearing a padded coat and glasses and talking to two guys around his age – one of them is probably the Donghyuck Mark has been mentioning a lot. He looks older. His smile is genuine but a little cautious. Yuta feels exactly the same about him as he did a year ago. 

His stomach suddenly drops when Mark turns around. He knows he can see him, yet he still can’t move. 

Mark also stops abruptly, and his two friends notice after a second; one of them says something, then looks over to Yuta as well and his eyes go wide. He frowns first then grins, and it’s unclear whether he’s annoyed or amused, but he eventually nudges Mark on the shoulder. Mark jumps visibly. Yuta is still rooted to the ground. Looking at him. 

Then, almost automatically, Yuta gets up and starts to walk. He crosses the road and Mark is walking too and suddenly they’re both at the bottom of the staircase and surrounded by students and Mark’s friends are staring at them and – 

“Hi,” says Mark in English, voice a little small. 

Yuta clears his throat. He doesn’t know whether to look at his eyes, dark and liquid behind the glasses, or at his pink heart-shaped lips. Both make his head spin. He starts questioning whether this was even a good decision. 

“Mark,” he settles for, quietly. “Mark Lee. Hi. I missed you.” 

Mark tries to say something but fails. Then he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, still staring right at Yuta, like he wants to look away but can’t. 

“You… you said you wanted to talk.” 

“Yeah,” Yuta tries to snap out of it, “where can we…” 

“My dorm is not far. Do you want to walk there?”

“Okay. Sure.” 

They start walking in silence, and Yuta keeps looking at Mark and not at the ground which makes it particularly hard not to trip over his own feet, especially considering how exhausted he is. 

“It’s just around the corner – “ 

“You look beautiful.”

Mark coughs and splutters and then looks over at Yuta. He’s blushing, and the way his eyes go comically big is so familiar and funny and endearing – fuck, Yuta is tired, he can’t think, he can’t believe Mark is right in front of him. 

“I… um… Yeah. I mean. Fuck.” 

“Was that you agreeing with me?”

“No, you… you look tired,” he settles for, and finally looks away. “You should’ve slept a bit and waited for a flight later in the morning.”

“I could have. I really didn’t want to, though.” 

“First floor,” says Mark, now pointedly _not_ looking at him. He waves at a guy standing in the hall, who’s playing some game on his phone; the guy eyes Yuta for a second, smirks then returns to his phone. “It’s, uh, here, a few doors down the left. That one.” 

Mark unlocks the door and suddenly they’re alone and it’s silent and Yuta’s chest feels tight. Mark turns around. 

“Eight months,” he whispers. 

“Yeah.”

“Better than a fucking year.”

“Yeah. Still too long.”

“Yuta…” 

“You asked me why, last night,” says Yuta. Mark looks at him, eyes uncertain – but his gaze holds a different strength now, even when he’s uncomfortable. It used to plead: don’t fuck this up. Now it warns: don’t fuck this up, or else. “I mean, when you ask a guy _why_ he’s willing to hop on a flight at dawn and go to another country, after it took him eight whole months to figure his shit out… I think you already know why. But you deserve to hear it. And the chance to be the one to walk away, this time – or, given the circumstances, kick me out, I guess.” He takes a deep breath. “You were my first choice from the start, Mark Lee. I knew it right away. I knew it after a day and I knew it after two weeks and I knew it when I left, as well. I knew it as I hid away in Tokyo and tried not to think about you at all. I… I know it now, too. And the fucking irony is, if I hadn’t been so afraid back then, we could have been something. We could have had each other for real. But I ruined it. I know I did. When you… when you said you loved me,” Mark grimaces but lets him continue, “I wanted to say it back, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure I even really knew how to. And now that I do? I can’t ask you to feel the same. I don’t have the right to expect… anything.”

“What… what changed?” 

“I loved you, and I was scared. Now I still love you, and I’m still scared, but I… I’m not willing to let you disappear from my life without giving us a chance, not anymore. If you want that too. If you still – “ 

“Do you mean that?” Mark’s lips are trembling a bit, and the room keys are clenched in his fist, knuckles white. “You…” 

“I love you.” 

Mark slowly closes his eyes. Quietly, Yuta pries the keys out of his hand and sets them down on the shelf.

“Fuck you,” whispers Mark, eyes still closed and lashes a little wet. 

Yuta bites his lip almost until it bleeds. 

“I’m sorry.” He can hear the choked sob in his own voice. “I’ll leave. I’m sorry, Mark.” 

“Don’t.”

“What – “ 

“Don’t fucking leave again!” 

Mark’s eyes fly open and his breathing is ragged and there’s a splash of angry pink on his cheeks. Yuta is frozen on the spot. Then Mark roughly grabs him by the shirt and kisses him. It’s so forceful it’s almost painful, teeth clashing, and it only lasts a second before Mark is shoving him away. Yuta hits the door with his back, out of breath. 

“Fuck you. _Fuck you!_ I love you too, you fucking moron. I can’t fucking believe you.” 

Yuta lets out a breathy laugh.

“You sound like you just learned how to swear.”

“You do _not_ wanna test me right now, Nakamoto – “ 

“Can I kiss you, then? Properly.” 

Mark stares for a second. Then, very slowly, he nods. 

Yuta should have expected that neither of them were gonna be able to keep their hands to themselves for more than five seconds. The kiss turns heated immediately, almost filthy, Yuta’s tongue leaving wet stripes and harsh bites all over Mark’s neck, only come back to his swollen lips. He doesn’t really know where they’re going, but Mark is tugging him insistently into a room and kicking the door closed before he kisses him again. It’s a little slower now. 

Yuta presses a finger against the heated skin of Mark’s neck and deepens the kiss, feeling a delicious drop in his stomach when his hands find Mark’s hips to slot them against his own. Mark moans in his mouth. Fuck. It’s been so long.

“I need you to touch me,” begs Mark, voice high-pitched, more strained, “I’ve waited so long, Yuta, please – “ 

“Still mad at me?”

“Yes,” it’s almost a growl, “which is why – oh fuck – oh god – “ 

The words spill all at once from Mark’s lips once Yuta gets a hand in his pants, wrapping his fingers around his half-hard dick. He pushes Mark roughly on the bed and pins him there before he starts stroking him quick. There will be time for something more, something more gentle, but right now everything is too urgent, and Mark is already bucking his hips up and squirming. He pulls Yuta closer to kiss him, then tugs down his jeans. 

“Wanna touch you too,” he pants, lips pressed against his skin. Yuta taps against his hip, and somehow Mark is still so responsive to him, because he immediately lifts his body enough for Yuta to pull his jeans and underwear down. 

“Still so pretty,” murmurs Yuta, lifting Mark’s shirt up to expose the soft flesh of his stomach, a light trail of hair going from his belly button down to his cock. He bends to lick over it and Mark has a full body shiver. 

“Come here, come here – “ he begs, half-delirious already.

Yuta can only comply, so he comes up again and kisses him, letting out a broken gasp when Mark suddenly pulls his boxers down to his thighs and thrusts up right after. Yuta spits on his hand and reaches between them, legs tangled, then takes their cocks together in his hand, swiping the thumb over Mark’s tip. Mark moans, loud, and thrusts against him harder. Yuta is lost to it, and knows they both won’t last long, so he dips his head into Mark’s collarbone and continues thrusting against him, cocks sliding against each other. He strokes them faster and faster until Mark is coming all over himself with a cry, and Yuta follows right after, trying not to let his body go limp over Mark’s. There’s barely enough space to roll over on the single bed, but he manages to shift and lay on his side. They’re both still high from the too fast orgasm, and they kiss messily as Yuta spreads come all over Mark’s stomach, making him both grimace and moan. 

“I want you to fuck me,” groans Mark against his mouth, “I’ve thought about it so many times, fuck, I want you to press me face down on the bed and fill me up – “ 

“Fucking _hell_ – “ 

Yuta kisses him hungrily, clothes still in the way, bodies spent and worked up at the same time. Mark’s forehead is sticky with sweat. 

“We have time, yeah?” pants Yuta. “We can – “ 

Mark already has a finger up his own ass. And, well, Yuta is only human. 

The first time they fuck is just as urgent, and just like Mark wanted it. Yuta opens him up first with his tongue and then with his fingers, and Mark comes once from that and once from Yuta’s cock buried deep inside him, heated pleads turning incoherent whenever Yuta’s grip on him gets a bit rougher. They wait barely enough time for the second round, but they go slower this time, Mark’s legs high on Yuta’s shoulders as he fucks him slowly, grinding against his prostate until Mark is sobbing and begging to come. He only does so when Yuta bends over him, sliding his dick in even deeper, and whispers: “You can come now, baby,” in his ear. It’s not long before Yuta is pinning him down again and lowering himself on Mark’s cock, the stretch borderline painful. He keeps Mark’s wrists in an iron grip as he rides him and fucks himself on his dick, whispering filthy words and clenching around him only to watch him squirm, then eventually losing his cool and allowing Mark to thrust up, every slam of his hips earning a moan from the both of them. 

Time swirls around them in odd shapes, going fast and then extremely slow, and Yuta barely notices the sunlight dimming until they’re lying next to each other again, squeezed together in Mark’s bed. He catches sight of the golden sundown on the high of Mark’s cheekbones, so he bends to kiss over it. Mark sighs and flutters his eyes closed. 

“Tired,” he mutters, fingers slowly tracing patterns over Yuta’s stomach. 

“Want me to make some food?” 

“Mm-mh. We could order in.” 

Yuta smiles. “Are you still a terrible cook?”

“Yeah,” says Mark sheepishly, shoving him a little. “You can cook for me, though,” he adds, his smile extremely pleased.

“Spoiled,” chuckles Yuta. He leaves a soft kiss on his neck, right over his pulse. 

“Maybe,” agrees Mark. Then he cracks an eye open. “We also have the option of never leaving this room again.” He turns around, but not before Yuta catches the smug look on his face, so his back is flush against his chest. They’re both still naked, and Yuta chokes on his breath once Mark arches his back and presses his ass right against Yuta’s dick. Yuta bites his shoulder in retaliation.

“We – “ Mark presses down harder and Yuta curses his own dick for reacting so fast, “– need a bit of food first. Okay? _Mark_ ,” he reprimands, breathy, when the other just hums softly and sways his hips. 

“What?” he turns around slightly, lips pouty and mirth in his eyes. “Don’t feel like fucking me anymore? Did I wear you out, old man?”

That earns him a slap on the ass and a heated make-out session that leaves them both breathless (and hard again.) 

“Why don’t we have dinner with your friends?” suggests Yuta, as Mark snuggles closer to him. It’s such a pleasant weight, when he rests his head on his chest. 

Mark looks up.

“Do you want to meet them?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve met _my_ friends, so…” 

“Sure. I’ll just… sure. Okay.”

“Or not?” tries Yuta, Mark’s discomfort quite clear. “I mean, we can also – “ 

“It’s just, I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell them,” interrupts Mark. He chews on his lip. “Like, about us. Because I’m kind of not sure where we stand.”

“I thought I made that pretty clear?”

“Yeah, but you still live in Japan and are on your way to be a big-shot novelist, and I’m still… here. In Seoul. At least until I finish uni.” 

“We’re expecting low sales, so cross the _big-shot novelist_ off that sentence,” snorts Yuta. “I knew what to expect when I took that plane, last night. I know your life is here. And I need to be in Tokyo at least until publication, and for some promotional activities too.” 

“What – “ Mark pauses, lifts himself up a bit to look at Yuta. “What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“That it will take me a few months, sure. But then I could think about… relocating. I mean, I already speak Korean, and. Well. You’re here.” 

Mark just stares at him for a while, the late afternoon shining in his eyes. He has his lips parted a little, neck littered with bite marks. He’s so still Yuta doesn’t dare say a thing. 

“Are you my boyfriend?” he asks all of a sudden, voice squeaky. 

This time Yuta _really_ tries, but he still can’t hold back his laughter. 

“Is that what you want to know, after I just told you I want to _move countries_ to be close to you?”

“No! Yes? Partly. I’m freaking out,” he laughs excitedly, “but like, in a good way. So. Are you?” 

“Yes, Mark Lee,” Yuta is still fighting off a smile, “I’m your boyfriend. Is the matter settled now?”

“Nothing feels settled and I’m happy and scared,” says Mark very quickly, going from Korean to English like he only does when he’s either really nervous or really comfortable. “God. You’re so beautiful. I love you. I’m still kind of mad. Fuck me?” 

Yuta kisses him and fucks him slow and deep and then they shower together and the water pressure is terrible but Mark being there with him makes it more than worth it. Yuta is still tired from his flight, not to count he’s had more sex in one day than in the past year, but still dries off to borrow some of Mark’s clothes; they fit a little better now, but not by much. It reminds him of the swimsuit situation, and he says so out loud. Mark laughs with a little nostalgia, then texts his friends – Donghyuck and the others, whose names Yuta practices in his head so he looks a little less like a dick when he meets them.

He does end up cooking dinner for Mark (or maybe it’s lunch? Something in between) although his food selection doesn’t go much past ramen and frozen kimchi. 

Meeting Mark’s friends is extremely awkward, especially at first, since they clearly all know about what went on between the two of them, and they’re obviously also dying to know what’s going on now. Predictably, somewhere between the second and third round of drinks, Donghyuck drags Mark away with an excuse, so Yuta is left with the rest of them for a while. 

Jaemin is the first to break the silence.

“You’re hotter than I thought you’d be, honestly,” he says very seriously, looking into his drink.

Yuta snorts a laughter. “Thanks?” 

“Can you teach Mark some Chinese?” interjects Chenle, hair falling into his eyes. “He says he’s studying it on some app but I’m pretty sure he’s lying.” 

“So,” interrupts Renjun, casting Chenle a cold look. He turns to Yuta, “while Donghyuck is probably grilling Mark for details, why don’t _you_ tell us what your plan is?” 

“Jun, stop doing the death stare,” says Chenle levelly, sounding like he’s used to it. 

“I am entitled to the death stare. You broke his heart,” he says then, staring right at Yuta. Something in his chest aches at that, and he looks down.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know. I know I fucked up. But I’m trying to make amends, and besides…” he looks up again, “that’s between Mark and me. I know you’re just trying to look out for him, but he can make his own choices.” 

“I don’t trust – “ 

“I’m in love with him. I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t exactly have the best track record with Mark, but I love him. We’re working it out. How to be in each other’s lives and still keep living our own, I mean. You’re good friends,” he adds, nodding to Renjun. He gets a stiff but slightly less hostile nod in return. “I’m glad he has you guys to rely on. But our business… is our business. We’re trying to move forward.” 

There’s a long minute of silence, and everyone is staring at Yuta, which makes him more than a little uncomfortable.

“Wow,” says Jaemin eventually, patting him on the shoulder, “I wasn’t expecting a love confession. So you two _did_ find the time to talk in between all the fucking.” 

“Oh god,” groans Chenle, covering his eyes, and the tension is suddenly broken. Renjun even grins a bit, and Yuta counts that as a win.

Yuta and Mark go back to the dorm around midnight and, with the lights off, still squeezed in his tiny bed, Mark suddenly asks: “When do you have to go back to Tokyo?” 

Yuta hums, hugs him closer.

“I’m not sure. A few days at most, before my agent comes to hunt me down and kill me.” 

“… Sorry?”

“Ah, it’s alright. We’re ahead of schedule anyway.” 

“Summer is not so far away,” says Mark quietly, sneaking an arm around Yuta’s waist. “We could… plan something.” 

“My place is big enough for two if, you know, you wanted to visit during summer break.” 

“You know I want to,” chuckles Mark. He kisses him on the cheek, which is somehow so sweet and gentle Yuta can feel his insides melt a little. “I could start asking around, after you leave for Tokyo. Go apartment hunting for you.” 

“Oh, so now you’re my boyfriend _and_ my real estate agent?” 

He only says that because he knows Mark blushes and smiles whenever he calls him that – his _boyfriend_. Cheeks flushed, Mark swings a leg over Yuta’s body and sits on his lap. 

“We can figure it out, right?” he asks, voice lower. 

Yuta strokes his hip lightly. “Yes. I want to.” 

“My parents will lose their shit once I tell them I’m not going back to Canada this summer,” giggles Mark. “Even more so when I tell them I’m going to spend the summer in Tokyo, with my _Japanese older boyfriend who’s also a writer_.”

Yuta laughs too. “You make it sound so weird.”

“It kind of is. Senpai.”

Yuta groans, motions to shake Mark off but without really putting any effort into it. 

“Seriously?”

“What?” Mark grins, eyes glinting and dangerous and lively. “Do you like hyung better? _Oppa_?” 

“I will _kill_ you – “ 

Yuta doesn’t get much sleep that night, but it’s alright, because he’s allowed to sleep in the next day, while Mark goes to class. When he wakes up he can tell from the light it’s late in the morning, and Mark left him a sickly sweet sticky note on the bedside table. Yuta tries not to smile as he folds it quietly and puts it in his backpack. 

He sits down on Mark’s bed – it feels a little empty without him – and brings his knees close to his chest. He can’t wait for Mark to come back from class. He can’t wait to publish his novel and see it in bookstores all over Japan. He can’t wait for Mark to come to Japan, and to watch him fall asleep on his couch in front of the TV. 

It suddenly comes down to him that this is the first time in his life he has so much to look forward to – so many goals that he actually chose, instead of drifting aimlessly from one to the other. Briefly, he thinks about Sicheng, and he’s oddly grateful his love for him was always one-sided. He lets himself imagine what his new life in Seoul could look like, too. He’d miss Japan for sure, and his friends too. But he’d visit often. And he would have Mark beside him. He would have Mark. 

Yuta lets his head fall until it softly hits the wall, then he looks up. He feels like laughing and tearing up at the same time. He’s never been particularly emotional, especially during the past year or so, so why does he suddenly feel _so much_? Was it always there? Were those missed opportunities, when he took a job he didn’t love, when he studied something he only mildly liked, when he didn’t confess his feelings, when he ran away from the island? Were they just stepping stones leading to one big moment? 

No, he decides eventually. There’s no big moment. Because Yuta loves what he has right now, but he still wants more – he always will. It’s like that night on the rooftop in Bangkok. The future is right in front of him, and for once the canvas isn’t completely blank – Yuta isn’t walking into it blind. A bit uncertain, sure, but with far less regrets. 

He bends down to pick up his phone, opens the browser and starts to look for apartments in Seoul. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> ... I can't believe I'm finally posting this. 
> 
> I'm back, everyone! And if this is your first time reading one of my works, kudos for making it to the end. This fic seriously took years off my lifespan. It took me over a month to complete it, I did an unholy amount of research to get all the places and timings right, and spoke (read:complained) about it to about every single person I know. I genuinely even considered dropping it because I was so frustrated with Yuta and myself. 
> 
> It's never said out loud in the fic, but Yuta shows several OCPD traits (obsessive compulsive personality disorder, which is very different from the more well-known OCD) paired with a low self-esteem; he hates change, doesn't believe in himself or think that anyone could love him, and is extremely scared of anything that's not planned and of the unknown and unexpected in general. He also acts very impulsively and often in an irrational way - but he slowly comes to first accept and then subvert the processes of his mind towards the end. I hope that explains his somewhat unpredictable behaviour throughout the whole fic. 
> 
> I didn't start this thinking it was gonna end up being a 20k story. What did I say last time? That I need to stop sharing my crises with my fictional characters? Yeah.   
> I feel like every writer and artist feels like Yuta does at least once - like their dream is not realistic, and they should pursue something more practical instead. I also feel like we often make choices we only feel lukewarm about, and end up neither happy nor sad in result. Those are all things I wanted to show through his personality and actions. You can see Mark as representing youth, I guess, and courage; but mostly hope, and the fact that ultimately it is anything but childish to have a dream and go after it. 
> 
> A few more notes (as if this wasn't already the weirdest end note I've ever written): as I said in the beginning of the story, all the places mentioned - where Yuta lives in Tokyo, Mark's dorms, even the cliff on Udo island - are real (although there's no house near the cliff). Out of the three pieces of poetry in the story, the first and last are original (I don't write much poetry myself, so if any actual poetry writers read them and cringed: my apologies), while the second piece is a mash-up of a couple of Pablo Neruda love poems.   
> I debated for a long time on how I wanted to end this story, and I actually had a different finale for it that I eventually discarded. I feel like I've had enough - of disappointment, of reality being nothing but bitter. If my characters can hold on to hope a little longer, maybe I can too. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the story (if you're still reading this you're a champ), and if you did don't be shy and leave me ALL the comments, kudos and likes! :D 
> 
> I post regular fanfic updates on my tumblr @ mabushii--hikari under the tag czennie127, so if you want updates on my writing or just want to ask me questions/cry over NCT with me, you can head there!   
> As always, the biggest thank you goes to all of you who read and review my fics - that's what really keeps me going. Let me know your thoughts on this one, and I hope you have a good day/night! 
> 
> Until next time, 
> 
> Lia
> 
> (The usual final note: English is not my first language, so I apologise if while editing I missed a few typos, or if you found any awkward sentences).


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